


A Lesson In Responsibility

by rowanthestrange_yugihell



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Ancient Egypt, It's Fungst, It's angst, M/M, The Ancient Egyptian Glass Closet, Underage Drinking, compulsory heterosexuality, it's fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 15:29:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10415235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowanthestrange_yugihell/pseuds/rowanthestrange_yugihell
Summary: A drunken Atem has to be escorted to bed by Mahad.





	

* * *

  


“Hands to _yourself_.” Mahad growls, grabbing Atem’s thin wrist, stopping his hand’s descent towards his backside. He lifts it in the air high above Atem’s head so he’s no longer leaning on him.

“And watch where you’re going.” He says, as Atem trips over his own feet while smiling drunkenly up at him. It would be cute if he didn’t have the anxiety about random guards or dignitaries passing by and seeing the boy in his overly tactile state.

“Can’t.” Atem says, still grinning inanely up at him, putting more and more weight on his arm, until Mahad’s half dragging him to his room.

“Carry me.” Atem mumbles, collapsing back against him as Mahad’s grip on his wrist falters, letting it fall. Mahad instinctively wraps his arm around the boy.

“With all that you’ll weigh after that feast, doubtful.”

“Magically.” Just because he is drunk, doesn’t mean Atem doesn’t still have an answer for everything.

“Besides, I didn’t eat _that_ much, the batarekh ruined it for me.” Atem slurs.

“And instead of doing the responsible thing and taking it up with the kitchens later, you decided to wash it down with half a jar of wine.” Mahad shifts Atem’s hand again.

“It wasn’t that much,” Atem whines.

It really was.

“Besides, I had to look engaged and not at all disappointed by the delegation’s entertainment.” Atem suddenly spins, surprisingly gracefully given the level of alcohol in him, mimicking the girls from before. Mahad grips hold of his tunic while Atem laughs.

“You’re not in private chambers yet.” Mahad mutters, shaking him a little.

“What, a man can’t drink to forget the smell of fish under his nose?” Atem says crassly, but otherwise holds his tongue as they stumble through the palace.

  


* * *

  


As they turn into the corridor Mahad waves the guards away. Priest’s privilege gives him a certain measure of control. That and the fact there’s a rumour going around that he could turn them inside-out. Which he may or may not have started.

Mahad bundles Atem into bed. Ignores his coquettish grin as he removes his sandals.

“You can sort yourself out.” There are limits to how much he feels like dealing with the drunken heir tonight.

“You’re going to leave me in this state?” Atem says in mock-petulance, the flush on his face from more than just the alcohol.

“Shouldn’t have got yourself all worked up then, should you?” Mahad replies, putting the shoes away. He realises a little too late that the bending down required was perhaps unfortunate, as he turns and catches Atem’s eyes, twinkling in the lamplight.

“You can sort yourself out.” Mahad repeats firmly, and Atem flings himself back dramatically on the bed.

“Fine.” Atem says. Mahad resists the urge to ruffle his hair. The boy’s just teasing him - he knows the current of the Nile, but he likes to play regardless. And today was difficult.

“Does everything please you?” He asks. Permission to leave.

“Yes, Mahad.” Atem replies, slightly soft and without the hint of flirtation. A thank you. 

Mahad takes his place outside the doorway. He does love him.

He can hear the sigh of a frustrated Atem fighting to remove some of his jewellery, and the tinkle of metal placed on a side. The rustle of a tunic being removed, sheets pulled back and a lamp being blown out as he gets himself comfortable. Then the sound of-

Ok, maybe he loves him less right now.

Mahad claps his hands over his ears, swears at Atem under his breath in three languages, and wonders if it is possible to die of embarrassment.

It’s at this moment that Isis rounds the corner, takes one look at him, and collapses into a silent fit of giggles.

She composes herself while he resumes his guard position, trying to block out the sounds that he is sure Atem is making just to be difficult. There’s an easy way to test that theory.

“Isis, you wish to join me this evening?” Mahad says rather more loudly than he usually would. The noises stop abruptly mid-moan. Faker. That’s what too much wine gets you.

  


* * *

  


Mahad spends a few minutes grumbling to Isis, who seems preoccupied and entirely unsympathetic.

“He is to be our ruler someday. He has responsibilities.”

“Don't you think he knows that? But he is a fifteen year old with a fifteen year old’s foolishness and whims and lusts. Always having to hide and hold his secrets close. He’s young, of course he acts out occasionally.” Isis says, with something Mahad thinks verges on frustration.

“I’m surprised at you, given that in your vows you have forsaken all of this.” Mahad says. Isis, broken from her thoughts, laughs at him.

“I have forsaken all _men_.” She says pointedly.

“You may be a Priestess, but you are that close to a normal woman, Isis.” Mahad says, making a gesture with his fingers that Isis mirrors, leaning towards him.

“That close. This close. Occasionally inside them…” Mahad flushes even more deeply, which considering the experience he’s just had is rather impressive.

“Why are you only like this when no-one else is around?” He growls.

“So that no-one will ever believe you.” She says maddeningly, leaning back against the doorway.

They stand in silence for a moment. Isis's expression pensive and humourless once more.

"The delegation wish for their Emperor's daughter to become a wife." Isis suddenly says, inclining her head towards Atem's room.

"And you have _seen_ this? Or- " Mahad starts. She's been wrong before, misinterpreted things.

"I heard it. One of the guards grew up in their land, and one of the wait-staff with a grasp of the language confirmed it. Apparently they talked of little else all evening." She clenches her jaw and straightens up, assuming the guarding stance properly, eyes fixed on the far wall. Sometimes Isis has visions, but more often she has _views_.

"Any chance that he will not know that?" Mahad asks, doubtful.

"It is Atem. Of course he will." Isis says. Atem learns languages the way other people learn the rules of senet. He says it's like a puzzle, a game like any other. Mahad thinks it is like being eaten by a crocodile, but then they're quite different people - he is not made to rule. A fact that at this moment he is quite glad for.

"The King?" 

“Will believe it could bring a long peace and open up some lost trade routes. They have an army and it will bring us protection, and who better to cement the deal than the- " 

“Future Protector of the Two Lands." Mahad finishes.

"He who endures. They really wish to test that." Isis says bitterly. Mahad looks at her - it is a hair's breadth from criticism and she looks entirely unrepentant.

“And so he’s a good boy. Courteous, smiling, making an excellent impression. Enjoying their gifts and their girls, and if he drinks a little overmuch why that’s simply the mark of an excited youth - almost a compliment,” She turns to Mahad.

“He _knows_ he is to be our ruler someday. He _knows_ he has responsibilities.”

Mahad doesn’t know how to reply, but is saved from doing so by a sudden noise coming from the room behind him, that startles them both.

“I COMMAND YOU TO LEAVE!” Atem shouts loudly, with the hint of an adolescent break of emotion. Of course he can hear them. Stupid.

They can’t of course. It would be breaking the King’s law to leave him unprotected. All they can do is stand there in painful silence, listening to the sounds that Mahad can only wish were bids for his attention, until they eventually peter out into sleep.

  



End file.
